Chapter 54: Duels Against Senior Guys

Days at the Verdant Dawn Academy began to blur for Alaric. The once-thrilling rhythm of studying, training, and spending time with friends now felt predictable, almost stifling. He’d wake up early, head to his classes, train until exhaustion, share a meal with his group, and collapse into bed. The monotony, though comforting in its structure, left Alaric with a nagging sense of dissatisfaction.

One morning, Alaric sat in the mess hall, absentmindedly pushing a fork through his eggs as the lively chatter of students buzzed around him. Natasha, her auburn hair tied up in a messy ponytail, dropped her tray beside his with a dramatic thud and plopped into the seat.

“You look like someone drained the life out of you,” she quipped, her hazel eyes twinkling with mischief. “What’s eating you, Alaric?”

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “It’s just… everything feels so routine now. Last year, everything was new, exciting. Now it’s all just the same.”

Natasha smirked, picking up a piece of toast. “Ah, the prodigy’s bored. How tragic.” She leaned closer, her voice teasing. “You know, maybe the problem isn’t the academy. Maybe it’s you.”

Alaric raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She shrugged. “You’re coasting. You’re used to being good at everything, so you’re not looking for new challenges. Maybe you need to shake things up.”

Across the table, Tess, always sharp and observant, overheard and chimed in. “You know, the junior girls have been whispering about you,” she said, her tone as casual as if she were commenting on the weather.

Alaric blinked, caught off guard. “Oh? What are they saying?”

Tess grinned, her cheeks flushing slightly. “That you’re cute. And mysterious. And possibly the most eligible guy in the academy.”

Natasha snorted. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

Lea, seated nearby, leaned in with a sly smile. “Oh, please. He’s already got half the senior girls swooning. What’s a few juniors?”

Irene, next to her, rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her amusement. “You should see the way they giggle whenever you walk by. It’s like you’re a rock star or something.”

Alaric smirked, leaning on the table. “What about you, Tess? Do you think I’m ’cute and mysterious’?”

Tess blushed, her ears turning pink. “I think you’re trouble,” she muttered, though her smile betrayed her. “But the good kind.”

Cedric, sitting beside Alaric, groaned. “Oh, for the love of mana. Alaric doesn’t need more ego-stroking. What he needs is to lighten up. Have some fun, man. You’re too focused all the time.”

“I have goals, Cedric,” Alaric replied, his tone even. “Goals I won’t reach by chasing after every junior girl who bats her eyes at me.”

Cedric rolled his eyes. “And what goals are those? Becoming the most boring prodigy in academy history?”

The group laughed, and though Alaric joined in, a part of him knew Cedric had a point. As they finished their breakfast and headed to their respective classes, Alaric found his mind wandering. Maybe Natasha was right—he needed something to shake up the routine.

Later that day, Alaric made his way to the training fields, hoping to channel his restless energy into something productive. The sun was warm on his back, and the grassy expanse was dotted with students sparring, practicing spells, and honing their craft.

Just as he was about to set up his own practice space, a group of senior boys stepped into his path. Their leader, a tall, broad-shouldered student named Darius, wore a smug grin that made Alaric’s instincts tingle.

“Well, if it isn’t the academy’s golden boy,” Darius drawled, crossing his arms. “What are you doing all alone, Alaric? Shouldn’t you have a fan club trailing behind you?”

Alaric’s expression remained calm, though his eyes sharpened. “Funny, I was about to ask why a bunch of seniors have nothing better to do than loiter.”

The group chuckled, but it was a mean-spirited sound. Darius stepped closer, his posture oozing arrogance. “You’ve been riding high on that reputation of yours. Rosalind and her friends protected you last year, but they’re gone now. And without them, you’re just a fluke. A junior who got lucky.”

Alaric tilted his head, his lips curling into a faint, mocking smile. “Is that what you tell yourself to feel better? Because from where I’m standing, it sounds like you’re scared of a ’junior.’”

Darius’s grin faltered for a split second before he masked it with bravado. “Scared? Of you? That’s rich. No, Alaric, I’m here to remind you where you stand. You’re not the best—just a wannabe.”

The tension crackled in the air like static. The other students on the field were starting to notice, their curious gazes flicking toward the brewing confrontation.

“If you’re so sure of yourself,” Alaric said, his voice calm but laced with challenge, “then prove it. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Darius’s grin returned, predatory and confident. “Fine. Tomorrow morning, at the dueling grounds. We’ll show you what real mages can do.”

Alaric nodded, his smile growing sharper. “I’ll be there. Don’t embarrass yourself.”

As the group stalked off, Alaric felt a thrill course through him. Finally, something to break the monotony—a challenge worth his time.

The rest of the day passed in a haze of anticipation. Alaric prepared meticulously, reviewing his spells, testing combinations, and visualizing the duel. The thought of standing toe-to-toe with Darius and his cronies filled him with a mix of excitement and determination.

When Natasha found him later that evening, still practicing in the empty training hall, she raised an eyebrow. “What’s got you so fired up?”

“Darius,” Alaric replied simply, not breaking stride as he conjured a shimmering shield of light around himself.

Natasha groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Oh, no. What did you do?”

“He challenged me,” Alaric said, lowering the shield and turning to her with a smirk. “I accepted.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Natasha muttered, though a small smile tugged at her lips. “You couldn’t just ignore him, could you?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

She sighed but didn’t argue. “Just don’t get yourself expelled, Alaric.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, his voice brimming with confidence. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

~~

The next morning, the dueling grounds buzzed with energy. Students gathered in clusters, whispering in excitement.

The news of Alaric’s challenge had spread like wildfire, and the entire academy seemed to have turned up to watch. The air hummed with anticipation, and even the professors stationed nearby seemed unable to hide their curiosity.

Alaric stepped onto the raised dueling platform, his movements calm and composed, though his heart beat a steady rhythm of anticipation. He scanned the crowd briefly, catching sight of Natasha, Tess, Lea, and Irene standing together.

Their faces were a mix of worry and unwavering support. Cedric stood behind them, arms crossed, his usual smirk replaced with a solemn expression. Alaric gave them a small nod, a silent promise that he had this under control.

The seniors stood at the opposite end of the platform, their leader, a broad-shouldered boy named Darius, stepping forward first. His grin was sharp, his confidence evident as he cracked his knuckles.

“Enjoy your last few moments of glory, junior,” Darius sneered. “When I’m done with you, you’ll be begging to transfer.”

Alaric raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk. “Big talk for someone who’s about to be outclassed. Let’s hope you can keep up with your own ego.”

The crowd erupted into scattered laughter, and Darius’s face darkened. He rolled his shoulders and raised his hands, his voice booming as he began to chant.

Darius’s hands wove intricate patterns in the air, the wind around him picking up with ferocious intensity. “Witness my power, junior! Gale Blast!”

The wind swirled into a vortex, lifting dust and debris from the platform. With a thrust of his palms, the vortex shot toward Alaric like a raging storm.

The sheer force of the spell caused the crowd to gasp, several students shielding their faces from the whipping winds.

But Alaric remained unfazed, standing firm as his hair and cloak billowed. He raised his hand with deliberate precision and began his own chant. “Not bad, Darius. But let me show you what real heat feels like.”

A spark ignited in Alaric’s palm, growing into a roaring ball of flame. “Let’s turn up the heat, shall we? Fire Barrage!”

He thrust his hand forward, unleashing a series of fireballs that cut through Darius’s wind vortex like a knife through butter. The flames slammed into the center of Darius’s attack, dissipating it with an audible crackle.

Darius stumbled back, shielding his face as the heat licked at him. His eyes widened in disbelief. “That’s impossible! No junior can—”

“Blah, blah, blah.” Alaric waved dismissively, smirking. “You guys really need new material. I mean, seriously, Darius. ’No junior can do this’? It’s like you’re quoting a bad novel.”

Before Darius could respond, Alaric clenched his fist, the remaining flames swirling into a single blazing sphere. “Catch!” he taunted, hurling the orb straight at Darius.

The sphere hit him square in the chest, sending him sprawling to the ground. Smoke curled from his singed robe as he groaned in pain.

“Next!” Alaric called out, turning his attention to the other seniors.

The second senior, Lorne, stepped forward, his face pale but determined. He tightened his grip on a staff and pointed it at Alaric. “Don’t think you’re unbeatable just because you got lucky once. I’m not Darius.”

“Good,” Alaric replied, cracking his knuckles. “Maybe you’ll last more than thirty seconds.”

Lorne glared, ignoring the chuckles from the crowd as he began chanting. The ground beneath his feet trembled as cracks formed, golden light seeping through.

Lorne raised his staff, slamming it into the ground. “Feel the weight of the earth! Earth Shatter!”

Large chunks of rock and earth broke free, launching toward Alaric like jagged projectiles. The attack was precise, each piece flying with deadly accuracy.

Alaric leaped to the side, dodging the first wave. “Not bad,” he called out, his tone mocking. “A little slow, though. Did you need a nap between each throw?”

Lorne growled, launching a second volley of rocks, faster and more erratic this time. Alaric’s feet barely touched the ground as he evaded the attacks, a grin never leaving his face.

“Alright, my turn,” Alaric said, halting suddenly. He closed his eyes, his hand drawing a swift arc in the air. A breeze swirled around him, gaining strength.

“Let’s see how you like the wind. Razor Gale!”

With a flick of his wrist, sharp blades of wind erupted, slicing through Lorne’s incoming projectiles. The rocks shattered into harmless dust, leaving Lorne exposed.

Before Lorne could recover, Alaric unleashed a concentrated gust, slamming into him with enough force to knock him off his feet. The senior landed unceremoniously on his back, gasping for air.

“Oops,” Alaric said with a mock wince. “Looks like the earth wasn’t on your side today.”

The crowd erupted into cheers, but Alaric didn’t bask in it for long. His eyes locked onto the next challenger.

Felix, the third senior, was lean and sharp-eyed, his expression cold and calculating. He stepped forward without a word, raising both hands. The temperature around the platform plummeted instantly, frost forming at Felix’s feet.

“Trying to freeze me out?” Alaric quipped, rubbing his arms. “You could’ve just bought me a scarf.”

Felix ignored the jibe, his chant resonating with an icy intensity.

“Shiver and fall! Frostfang Shard!”

A massive spike of ice erupted from the ground, shooting toward Alaric like a crystalline spear. Felix followed it with a barrage of smaller, razor-sharp icicles, each one aimed with deadly precision.

Alaric narrowed his eyes, raising his hand to counter. “Cold hands, warm heart. Let’s see how you handle this. Infernal Wave”

A wave of heat radiated from Alaric, melting the smaller icicles before they could reach him. He stepped forward, flames erupting along the ground. With a swift motion, he extinguished the fire, leaving the earth steaming.

“Overcompensating much?” Alaric taunted, sidestepping the Frostfang Shard. “Did you think I’d just stand there like a snowman?”

Felix scowled, attempting another spell, but Alaric didn’t give him the chance. He raised his hand, summoning a burst of icy energy of his own.

“Let’s see if ice can beat ice. Frozen Lance!”

A sharp spear of ice formed in Alaric’s hand, glinting wickedly before he hurled it at Felix. The senior barely managed to throw up a shield of frost, but the force of the impact sent him skidding backward.

Felix collapsed to one knee, his breath visible in the cold air. Alaric gave him a mock bow. “Thanks for cooling me off. I was getting a little warm after the last fight.”

The last senior, Victor, stepped forward, his demeanor more measured. He unsheathed a long, narrow blade, its surface glowing faintly blue.

“You’ve got skill, Alaric,” Victor admitted. “But you’ve made enough enemies today.”

“Flattered, really,” Alaric replied, rolling his shoulders. “But threats aren’t exactly original. Let’s skip to the part where I win.”

Victor didn’t rise to the bait, instead raising his sword. The air around it shimmered as water droplets formed and gathered into a whirling spiral.

“Let’s drown that arrogance. Tidal Surge!”

A massive wave of water surged from Victor’s blade, crashing toward Alaric like a tidal wave. The crowd gasped, several students stepping back as the water threatened to overflow the platform.

Alaric stood firm, his hand outstretched. His voice rose above the roar of the wave. “Oh no, I forgot my floaties! Guess I’ll just have to fight back. Aqua Spear!”

Water from the incoming wave swirled into a spear in Alaric’s hand. He thrust it forward, splitting Victor’s wave down the middle. The crowd watched in awe as the water dispersed harmlessly to the sides.

Victor gritted his teeth, rushing Alaric with his blade. The two exchanged rapid blows, water clashing with summoned water, each strike more intense than the last.

Finally, Alaric feinted to the left, creating a second spear with a flick of his wrist. He aimed low, sweeping Victor’s legs out from under him. The senior hit the ground hard, his blade clattering beside him.

Alaric stepped back, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “You fought well. For about five minutes.”

As Victor lay defeated, the crowd erupted in cheers. Natasha, Tess, Lea, and Irene pushed through the throng, their faces alight with pride.

“You were amazing!” Natasha exclaimed, her eyes shining.

“More like unstoppable,” Tess added, grinning.

Cedric clapped Alaric on the shoulder. “You really showed them. But maybe tone down the sarcasm next time.”

“Not a chance,” Alaric replied with a wink, already scanning the crowd for his next challenge.